Baldwin^ s Biographical Booklets 



THE STORY OF 

DANIEL BOONE 

FOR YOUNG READERS 




I ; 




BV 

FRANCES M. PERRY 



WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK BOSTON 



BALDWIN'S BIOGRAPHICAL BOOKLETS 



THE STORY 



DANIEL BOONE 



FOR YOUNG READERS 



By FRANCES M. PERRY 




WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY 

NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON 



•^^'^ 



n <? o A f" . p 



BALDWIN'S - . 

BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

FOR YOUNG AMERICAN READERS 

EPITED BY 

JAMES BALDWIN, Ph.D. 

FOUR GREAT AMERICANS 

George Washington, Benjamin Franklin 
Daniel Webster, Abraham Lincoln 
By JAMES BALDWIN, Ph.D. 
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Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier 
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FOUR FAMOUS AMERICAN WRITERS 

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FOUR AMERICAN PIONEERS 

Daniel Boone, George Rogers Clark 
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other volumes in preparation 



Copyright, 1900, by WERNER SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY 



€\)e ILakfsitic ^rcss 

DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
CHICAGO 



TWO COPIES BBCBIVED, 

Librsry cf eoBi^«l« 
OfHee cf fhd 

MAY 1 7 1900 

;c^lster cf Copyright* 

'2S-. 



/ CONTENTS. 
•ECOuircoPY. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Childhood . ... . . . - 5 

II. A Young Hunter ..... 8 

III. Westward Ho! . . . . . .11 

IV. A Second Robinson Crusoe ... 15 
V. East Again 19 

VI. Preparing the Way . . . . . 22 

VII. The New Kentucky Home . . . .25 

VIII. Indian Hostilities ..... 29 

IX. Boone Made Prisoner . . ' . . - ZZ 

X. Captivity and Escape .... 36 

XI. Preparations for the Siege . . .40 

XII. ' The Siege of Boonesborough ... 43 

XIII. Dark Days ....... 49 

XIV. Old Age ....... 55 




DANIEL BOONE. 



DANIEL BOONE 

THE HERO OF KENTUCKY 



I. — Childhood. 

When Daniel Boone was a child the land west of the 
Alleghanies was a wilderness inhabited only by Indians. 
But in Virginia, and other places east of the mountains, 
there were fine houses with broad porches and large, 
richly-furnished rooms. There stately men in powdered 
wigs and knee-breeches, and queenly dames in stiff 
brocades and high-heeled shoes, lived and brought up 
little American boys and girls after the fashion of their 
English cousins. 

However, it was not. in such a house nor among such 
people that Daniel Boone learned to walk, and talk, and 
think. . His father was a poor man who lived in a rude 
log cabin on the outskirts of a dark forest in Pennsyl- 
vania. There Daniel spent his happy childhood. 

The cabin was small, but that made it very snug in 
winter when the snow was blowing outside and the logs 
were blazing in the great stone fireplace. And in sum- 
mer, if there was not room enough for the large family 

5 



6 DANIEL BOONE. 

ill the small house, there was plenty of space out of 
doors. The little folks in that humble home were not . 
fed on pies and cakes, but they had an abundance of 
plain food which makes strong muscles ; and sharp 
appetites gave it flavor. The beds were hard, but all 
slept too soundly to think of that. 

The rough hunter loved his children fondly. When 
he came home from a day's hunt and Daniel toddled 
down the path to meet him, he tossed the sturdy little 
fellow upon his shoulder and let him examine the heavy 
flint-lock with eager baby fingers. Or perhaps he had 
brought a shy rabbit or cunning squirrel to his boy, just 
as your father sometimes brings a ball or a toy to your 
younger brother. 

Daniel loved animals and had no fear of them. 
These tiny creatures of the woods were his play- 
fellows, and his father's hunting-dogs were his com- 
rades. 

As soon as he was old enough he went with his 
brothers and sisters to the log schoolhouse to learn to 
read and write. The schoolroom was small, dark, and 
comfortless. The master was cross and unjust. The 
place seemed like a prison to Daniel. 

He was glad to shun such a place and plunge into the 
forest with his gun on his shoulder and his dog at his 
heels. There he felt free and happy. Long, solitary 
tramps through the woods in quest of game were his 
greatest pleasure. He was usually so successful in 



CHILDHOOD. 



hunting that his father made no objection to his staying 
away from school. 

The youthful hunter might have been hurt or 
lost while on these lonely rambles, but he rarely had a 
mishap; for he was as cautious as he was brave. His 
habit of hunting alone 
made him observing and 
self-reliant, for there was 
no one to whom he could 
go for advice when in 
trouble. 

When exploring new re- 
gions in fair weather he was 
guided by the sun ; and 
when the day was dark and 
cloudy the thick moss on the 
north side of the tree-trunks 
told him which way to go. 
He rarely needed such guides, 
however, for, like the wild animals, he 
seemed to know his way by instinct. 

He soon knew the forest for miles 
around. He could name the trees at 
a distance from the color of their leaves. In the win- 
ter he knew them by their bark, their manner of branch- 
ing, and their forms. He could find the finest nuts and 
the most luscious berries. He knew the tiniest wild 
flowers, and where and when to look for them. 




A hunter's equip- 
ment. 



8 DANIEL BOONE. 

He was very much interested in animals, and studied 
their haunts and habits. He became a good marksman, 
for he could keep a cool head and a steady hand at the 
most exciting moment. 

He knew many Indians; he visited their tents; ate 
their food; hunted with them; traveled with them; and 
learned their customs, their tricks, and their character. 

Thus, while other American boys were being schooled 
in English manners and were being prepared to meet 
the British on equal terms and defeat them, Daniel 
Boone was taking the lessons in forest lore and Indian 
craft that were to fit him to subdue the wilderness and 
vanquish the red man. 



II. — A Young Hunter. 

Daniel Boone grew to manhood without caring much 
for the peaceful, industrious habits of civilization. 
Farming he did not like. Business and politics were 
uninteresting. He was even indifferent to the war with 
the French and Indians, which was then exciting his 
countrymen. Hunting claimed the most of his time 
and attention. He was an ideal hunter, having been 
fitted by nature and training for that life at a period 
when hunting was not a sport, but a serious occupa- 
tion. 

Though not unusually tall, he was finely formed. He 



A YOUNG HUNTER. 9 

had the grace and freedom of a strong man who has 
plenty of the right kind of exercise. His broad, deep 
chest showed that he could run very fast without getting 
out of breath or panting. His light springing step 
carried him over the ground so swiftly and easily that 
men hurrying along the road behind him were sur- 
prised to see how fast the distance between them 
increased. 

When necessary he could work harder and longer 
without food or rest than other men. No Indian was 
more quick and nimble or more artful and cunning 
than Boone when he was trying to outwit an enemy or 
surprise timid game. 

He had a fine head and his face was by no means 
commonplace. The high forehead, the clear, calm eyes 
and the firm mouth, all told of a manly courage to 
which imprudence and fear were equally impossible. 

In his disposition he was kind and accommodating, 
and his friends and relatives respected and admired the 
quiet youth, of whose skill and strength wonderful 
stories were told. Of course there were fault-finding 
strangers who did not think so well of him, but criti- 
cised his rough clothes and called him stupid because 
he was not interested in the same subjects that they 
were. 

It made little difference to Daniel Boone whether 
people liked or disliked his conduct, so long as he could 
forget the rest of the world in the old forest with its 



lO DANIEL BOONE. 

woody odors, its deep silences, and numberless living 
creatures. But when at last the sound of the woodman's 
ax began to rival the report of the hunter's gun in his 
beloved forest, and the frontiersman's cabin and corn- 
field appeared in the clearings, he became dissatisfied. 
He did not like to see his hunting grounds turned into 
farm-lands. He was well pleased, therefore, when his 
father decided to move to a new settlement on the 
Yadkin River, in North Carolina, which was reported to 
be a fine hunting district. 

There were no railroads then, not even wagon roads, 
and movers had to travel on foot or on horseback. 
Fortunately, they seldom had many articles of sufficient 
value to carry with them. When the Boone family 
reached the end of their long journey, Daniel helped his 
father and brothers to make a loghouse much like their 
old Pennsylvania home. 

This cabin did not shelter him many months. He 
met a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked lass in the settlement. 
He loved her so dearly that he decided to build a little 
home of his own if he could only persuade the sweet 
Rebecca to be its mistress. He was very happy when 
he found that she loved him in return, and they were 
soon married. They went to housekeeping in a poor 
but romantic cabin on the edge of a beautiful forest. 

For a while this forest furnished them with all they 
needed, but as more people came to live in the neigh- 
borhood Daniel Boone again saw the game driven away 



WESTWARD HO ! II 

by advancing civilization. He tried to cultivate the 
soil and manage a small farm, but he found such work 
much harder than hunting. 

Then, too, the inequality of the settlers in wealth and 
position distressed him. The rich had large plantations, 
fine houses, slaves, and luxuries of all kinds. They 
seemed to think their wealth gave them rights which 
their poor neighbors who dressed in deerskins and lived 
in log cabins did not have. This vexed the independent 
Boone and he became unhappy and restless. 



III. — Westward Ho ! 

Boone heard glowing reports of the hunting-grounds 
beyond the mountains, from John Finley, who had been 
there trading with the Indians. He thought that such 
a country would be an ideal place in which to live. 
He talked the matter over with his friends and found 
five tried hunters who were willing to go with him 
on a hunting and exploring expedition through that 
region. 

So in the spring of 1769, when his neighbors were 
hard at work sowing and planting, Daniel Boone said 
farewell to his wife and children and started for the 
distant west. 

He and his, companions were going to a country 
where there were no hotels, no houses, not even stores 



12 



DANIEL BOONE. 



where they might buy food, clothing or blankets. 
Money would be useless to them there. Yet they car- 
ried with them no provisions or other articles except 
powder and bullets, for their rifles and hatchets must 
furnish them with the necessities of life. 

As they passed through the settlement the people 
came to their doors to look after the six men. They 




MAP SHOWING THE PLACES VISITED BY BOONE. 



wore comfortable deerskin hunting-suits trimmed with 
fringes of slashed deerskin. On their feet were stout 
moccasins of the same material. Full powder horns 
dangled from their belts, and every man had a strong 
hunting-knife, a tomahawk, and a rifle. 

All the boys who saw them on that pleasant spring 
morning thought they looked very brave and manly and 
told their mothers that they too would be hunters when 
they grew up. But the older people shook their heads 



WESTWARD ho! 1 3 

and said that it was much better to be a farmer or a mer- 
chant. And the boys might have agreed with them if 
they could have traveled for a day or two with those 
hunters. 

While the weather was fair and bright the hunters 
kept in good spirits. But heavy rains soon fell. The 
mountain paths were muddy and slippery. There were 
no bridges, and so they had to cross the swollen moun- 
tain streams as best they could, sometimes wading, and 
sometimes floating themselves over on logs or rude rafts. 

Wet through, cold, often hungry, they could not help 
sighing for the comfortable homes they had left. But 
they were hardy men, and trudged on with no thought 
of turning back. 

The bad weather continued. As they got deeper 
among the wild and unexplored mountains, the difficulty 
of traveling increased. They did not know at what 
moment they might be attacked by a band of Indians. 
Even Boone thought it a most unpleasant journey. He 
called the cliffs "wild" and "horrid" and said it was 
"impossible to behold them without terror." To him 
they looked like the "ruins of the world." 

After a month's hard tramping they reached the crest 
of the heights that overlook the rich plains of central 
Kentucky. As they viewed the valleys and rolling 
forest lands below them they felt rewarded for their 
difficult march. The scene was beautiful and prom- 
ising, lyarge herds of buffaloes were seen grazing on 



14 DANIEL BUOlsr^. 

the hillsides or browsing on the leaves in the cane- 
brakes. Deer and all sorts of choice game assured them 
of abundant food. 

They built a rude hunters' lodge of logs and bark, as 
a shelter from rain. This they made their headquarters. 
In the morning they started out by twos and later in 
the day all returned to the lodge, bringing the fruits of 
a day's hunt. In the evening they cooked and ate a 
hearty supper and told the adventures of the day. 

Sometimes one reported that he had seen signs of 
Indians. Then all were cautious for a short time. As 
they became acquainted with the neighboring country 
they took longer trips, meeting less often at the lodge. 
In this way they spent the summer and fall. 

A few days before Christmas, as Daniel Boone and a 
single companion were enjoying a ramble through a 
beautiful section of the country, rich in game and 
timber, they were waylaid by a party of fifteen Indians. 
It was useless to make resistance, and they were over- 
powered and made prisoners. 

Boone knew the Indian character well. He knew 
that the savages would probably kill them if they were 
troublesome or disagreeable, and so he acted as if he 
were well pleased with his new life. His friend fol- 
lowed his example; and when the Indians found that 
the prisoners could march just as far as they them- 
selves could, that they could go as long without food, 
always appeared contented, and never tried to get away, 



A SECOND ROBINSON CRUSOE. I5 

they thought them very brave fellows and did not watch 
them so closely. 

On the seventh night after they had been made pris- 
oners, Boone saw that they were unwatched. While 
all the Indians were sleeping he roused his companion 
and, seizing their rifles, the two stole away. When the 
Indians awoke next morning, their former prisoners 
were already far on their way toward the old lodge. 



IV. — A Second Robinson Crusoe. 

The fugitives hastened to the old meeting place 
expecting to find friends and good cheer. Instead they 
found the lodge empty and deserted. At first they were 
struck with dismay. They were full of anxiety for 
their companions. They were sorry to lose the valu- 
able skins they had collected. And after their recent 
experience with the Indians it was not pleasant to 
know that they were the only white men west of the 
mountains. 

But Daniel Boone was not the man to be driven 
from his purpose by fear or discomfort or any ordinary 
disaster. This ill-fortune only made him more de- 
termined to succeed. The two men went to work with 
energy to repair their loss. 

A few days later, on returning from a long hunt, 
they saw two white men approaching their camp. 



l6 DANIEL BOONE. 

Hurrying to welcome the new-comers, Boone was sur- 
prised to meet his own brother, Squire Boone. He had 
started with a fellow adventurer to explore the country 
and find, if possible, some trace of Daniel. By the 
marks which the hunters had left along the route, he 
had been able to trace them to the camp. 

You may imagine how glad Daniel Boone was to see 
his brother and hear from his wife and children. And 
you may imagine how glad Squire Boone was to meet 
the brother whom he had begun to fear that he should 
•never see again. 

A larger fire than usual was made that night in the 
little cabin, and the choicest game was roasted over 
it for the cold and hungry travelers. In talking over 
their adventures and plans, all forgot that they were 
tired, and the fire burned low before they went to sleep 
in their warm buffalo robes. 

The following days were spent in hunting and ex- 
ploring. The men were cheerful and hopeful. Four 
seemed to them a goodly company; but their number 
was soon reduced again to two. Squire Boone's com- 
panion returned home, and Daniel's friend was killed 
by the Indians. 

The brothers prepared a more comfortable cabin for 
their winter quarters and passed that season in safety. 
In the spring their supply of powder and lead got so low 
that it was necessary for one of them to go back to 
Carolina for more. It was decided that Squire Boone 



A SECOND ROBINSON CRUSOE. I7 

should go. He started on the first of May. So, just 
one year from the day on which Daniel Boone had left 
his home and set out for the West, he was left alone 
in the wilderness. 

After his brother had left he was as lonely as Robin- 
son Crusoe. He had not a dog or a horse to keep him 




AI^OJ^E AT THE HUNTERS' CAMP. 

company. He was in constant danger of being cap- 
tured or shot by Indians. His only food was game and 
wild fruit. 

Few men could have endured such privations. But 
Boone's life from childhood had prepared him to 
accept such circumstances almost as a matter of course. 



l8 DANIEL BOONE. 

At first he felt lonesome and thought much of his wife 
and children, but he had no fear. 

He explored the country, following the traces or 
roads, made through the cane by buffaloes and other 
animals, to the salt licks. He traced streams to their 
sources, named rivers, noted the forests and the vege- 
table products of different regions, and marked good 
locations for settlements. He often traveled far from 
his camp on these occasions and slept under the open 
sky. At night he heard wolves howl and panthers 
screech, but he knew they were too well supplied with 
game to care to molest him. 

He was always on the lookout for Indians. He learned 
that he was in a territory which was the home of no 
tribe, but the common hunting and battle ground of 
many. He knew that his camp had been discovered, 
and he feared it was watched; for on returning to it he 
often found that it had been visited. 

In spite of so many dangers he really enjoyed this life 
better than the uneventful life of a farmer, and never 
regretted the step he had taken. Still when three 
months had passed he began to look rather uneasily at 
his small store of ammunition and w^atch anxiously for 
his brother. And he felt sincerely thankful when he 
met him at last in the old camp. Squire Boone brought 
horses, powder, lead, and, best of all, news of the health 
and prosperity of the dear ones at home. 

After another fall and winter spent in hunting and 



East AGAIN. 1 9 

exploring the land along the Cumberland River, the 
brothers returned to Carolina. But Daniel Boone had 
found the place- that he wished to make his home and 
left it with the expectation of returning soon with his 
family and friends. 



V. — East Again. 



Daniel Boone did not telegraph to his wife that he 
was coming home, nor did he write to her, for you must 
remember that there was no telegraph then, and there 
were no mail coaches in that part of the world. But if 
Mrs. Boone had been getting ready for weeks, the 
floor could not have been whiter, the tins could not 
have been more sjiining bright, the fire could not have 
blazed more merrily, the corn-bread could not have been 
lighter, and the children could not have been more trim 
and neat than they were on that spring evening when 
the weather-beaten hunter stood again at his own door 
after an absence of two years. 

How overjoyed they were to see him ! No wonder 
the brisk little woman in homespun let the bowl of lus- 
cious strawberries fall with a crash on the clean floor 
while she gave a cry of delight and ran into his out- 
stretched arms. Then those tall, fine-looking boys and 
girls, who had grown so that he scarcely knew them, 
crowded about him and almost smothered him with 
caresses. 



20 DANIEL BOONE. 

When the news of Boone's return spread through the 
neighborhood, friends and relatives came in to welcome 
him. He was quite a hero. Every one wanted to 
hear of his adventures and learn about the rich land 
he had found. Mrs. Boone was so proud of her brave 
husband, and so happy in having him home again, that 
she forgot all about the two long years of hard work and 
separation. 

He gave such a glowing account of Kentucky that 
all his family thought it would be fine to go there and 
were pleased to hear him say that he would take them 
back with him. Some of the neighbors said they would 
be glad to join them. This was just what Boone 
wanted, and he began at once to organize a party of 
emigrants and prepare for the departuj."e. 

The farm had to be sold. Provision had to be made 
for the comfort of women and children. Then, there 
were delays caused by people changing their minds 
after they had promised to go, and more than a year 
passed before a company of five families was ready, 
with cattle and household goods, to start for the new 
home in the wilderness. 

They began the journey in good spirits. In Powell's 
Valley they were joined by forty men. The whole 
party pressed eagerly forward, full of hope. They had 
crossed two ranges of mountains and were nearing the 
third when those in front were startled by rifle reports 
in the rear. 



EAST AGAIN. 21 

They turned back and found that the young men 
driving the cattle had been attacked by a band of In- 
dians. The emigrants charged upon the savages and 
drove them away. But six of their boys had fallen in 
the first fire. 

Among those killed was Daniel Boone's eldest sou. 
Overcome with grief and fear, the party would not go 
on. Boone, therefore, led them back to the settlements 




OI<D FLINT I.OCK RIFI.E USED BY BOONE. 



on the Clinch River. Here, still far from his promised 
land, he staid with his family until 1774. 

The fame of Boone's explorations in Kentucky 
reached the ears of the governor of Virginia, who at 
that time had a party of surveyors working along the 
Ohio River. The Indians had become so hostile that 
these men dared not come back the way they had gone, 
and it was dangerous for them to stay where they were. 

The governor requested Boone to go to the Falls of 
the Ohio to find and conduct them home, overland. He 
was glad to do this and set forth at once with one com- 
panion. About two months later he returned to the set- 
tlement with the surveyors, having made the journey 
of eight hundred miles through a country without roads 
in sixty-two days. 



22 DANIEL BOONE. 

A little latei- the governor made him captain of three 
garrisons, and sent him to fight the Indians. A treaty of 
peace soon put an end to the hostilities between Virginia 
and the Indians, and Daniel Boone was again without 
employment, but not for long. 



VI. — Preparing the Way. 

A company of rich men in North Carolina thought 
they might increase their wealth by buying a large tract 
of land in famous Kentucky and selling it off to settlers 
in small farms. They would first have to buy the land 
of the Indians. 

As Daniel Boone knew all about the land, they wished 
him to take charge of this part of the business. Accord- 
ingly he went, in their behalf, to a council of Indians 
and bought the land on terms satisfactory to both Indians 
and white men. 

After the treaty was made an old Indian shook hands 
with Boone and said: "We have given you a fine 
country, brother, but you will have trouble to settle it." 

The men who had bought the land wished to see it 
occupied. In order to encourage movers to go there 
they wished to have a road opened and a fort built. 
Boone was put in charge of this undertaking. A better 
man for the work could not have been found. He had a 
personal interest in it, for the road was to be traveled 



PREPARING THE WAY. 



23 



by his own family and the fort would protect them in 
their new home. 

At the head of a band of well-armed workmen, hired 
for thirty-three cents a day, he commenced the work 
promptly. It went forward rapidly, for the road was no 
more than a rude path, marked and cleared so that a 
line of pack horses might travel over it. Although 




THE FORT AT BOONESBOROUGH. 



always on the lookout for an attack from the Indians, 
the road-makers were not molested until they had nearly 
completed their work. When within fifteen miles of 
the place which Boone had decided upon for the station, 
the party was fired upon by Indians. Though the white 
men finally drove the savages away, two of their num- 
ber were killed and two wounded. 

Three days later the Indians made a second assault, 



24 DANIEL BOOxNE. 

That time Boone lost two more of his men and three 
were wounded. This resistance only roused the deter- 
mined leader to put forth greater effort to finish the 
road and build a strong fort to defend his employers' 
property against the claims of men who, he thought, 
had no right to it. 

On the first day of April, 1775, they began to build a 
fort near a salt lick about one hundred and eighty feet 
south of the Kentucky River. While busy with this 
work, which was not completed until the middle of 
June, they lost one man. When finished, the station 
was named, in honor of the man to whom it owed its 
existence, Boonesborough. 

The fame of the fertility of Kentucky had spread, and 
several parties of Virginians ventured that year to cross 
the mountains and visit the wonderful hunting-ground. 

Their object was to claim lands for future settlement. 
For Virginia, the state to which the territory of Ken- 
tucky belonged, had offered four hundred acres of land 
to every one who would clear a portion of it, raise a crop 
of Indian corn, and build a rude cabin. 

The settlers did not fell the large trees, but cut the 
bark so that they would die. Then having cleared 
away the underbrush, planted corn, and put up rude 
huts on desirable tracts of land, most of them went 
back to their homes in the East. These men expected 
to sell or use their lands when the country was better 
settled and less dangerous. 



THE NEW KENTUCKY HOME. 2$ 

Daniel Boone had no thought of getting rich by claim- 
ing and selling Kentucky lands. To him it seemed a 
good place for a home just as it was. 

As soon as the fort was completed he left it in charge of 
a few men and returned to the settlement on the Clinch 
River, to move his family to the home he had prepared 
for them. 



VII. — The New Kentucky Home. 

Boone was a happy man when he said good-by to the 
quiet little community east of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains and set forth with his wife and children for the 
land he loved. 

It took much courage for Mrs. Boone to leave home 
and friends and attempt a second time the perilous jour- 
ney through the wilderness from Clinch River to Boones- 
borough. But she was a brave woman, and, if her heart 
was heavy with sorrow and fear when she passed the spot 
where, two years before, her eldest boy was shot, she hid 
her grief, and her husband did not know that she was 
less happy than he. She noticed the beautiful scenery 
and spoke of the fine air. 

Where the way was broad enough, Daniel Boone rode 
beside her. His happiness made him more talkative 
than usual, and he pointed out objects of interest or 
related some adventure that had befallen him here or 
there along the road. Then he spoke of the new fort 



36 



DANIEL BOONE. 




THE NEW KENTUCKY HOME. 27 

and told how strong it was and how safe they would be 
from the Indians when tjaey reached it. Thus he talked 
until the entire company shared his enthusiasm. 

But all the time he was on the alert. No stragglers 
were allowed to linger behind the company or stray 
aside to fall victims to Indian cunning, and all reached 
Boonesborough in safety and with high hopes. 

How beautiful the new home was! The world seemed 
so grand and free and all their own. Mrs. Boone and 
her daughter stood on the banks of the Kentucky and 
felt a thrill of pride when Daniel Boone told them that 
they would be remembered in history as the first white 
women to behold that stream. 

Everything was new and unusual. They were inter- 
ested in the curious animals and strange plants. They 
felt the charm that he had felt, and were glad to be 
there. Then, too, they thought themselves so safe 
when once inside of the great palisade. Before the 
novelty wore off and before they had time to be lone- 
some other families joined them. 

The station consisted of several cabins opening on a 
hollow square and surrounded by a wall about twelve 
feet high, made of stout posts, sharpened and planted 
firmly in the earth. At the corners were projecting, 
strong blockhouses. 

In the daytime the men went outside of the palisade 
to hunt, and plant or tend their corn. The women 
went to and from the spring for water. The children 



28 DANIEL BOONE. 

played about the gate. The cattle browsed on the tender 
cane leaves. But at night all assembled within the 
sheltering walls. 

Bach of the families had a separate cabin. Five or 
six of the men who had no families clubbed together in 
a single dwelling. Living so close together and having 
the same interests all were as well acquainted and friendly 
as one great family. 

And what good times they had in the evening after 
the day's work! Such feasts, such fiddling, such danc- 
ing and singing ! Never was fairy tale listened to with 
such breathless interest as were the adventures of those 
daring hunters. With plenty of work to keep them 
busy by day, and frolics and story-telling for the even- 
ing hours, they had little time to regret old friends and 
little occasion to fear the Indians. 

This tranquillity was interrupted and the Christmas 
cheer of the pioneers was changed to sorrow and appre- 
hension, for on the twenty-fourth of December one 
of their number was wounded and another killed by 
prowling savages. 

After that they were left in peace for some time. 
Their cane-fed cattle gave them the most delicious 
cream, butter, and cheese. The women and boys worked 
in February and March making maple sugar, which the 
children said was almost as good as the golden honey 
that the wild bees had stored for them in the old for- 
est trees. Crops flourished. The salt licks furnished 



INDIAN HOSTILITIES. 



29 



good salt. The wild animals provided them with meat 
and skins. In short, nature cherished them in rude 
plenty, and they were happy and prosperous in their 
new home. Their experience had encouraged others to 
follow their example, and several stations sprang up in 
the vicinity. 



VIII. — Indian Hostilities. 

No signs of the Indians had been seen for some time. 
The boys began to call them cowards and to boast what 
they would do if one dared to venture on their land. 
Even the older people had begun to feel rather secure. 
But one evening in July on returning from a hunt 
Daniel Boone found the settlement in a state of great 
excitement. Women were weeping and wringing their 
hands ; there were watchmen at the gate with loaded 
rifles ; men were melting bullets, and all looked 
troubled. He soon learned the cause of this distress. 

His young daughter and two of her girl friends had 
imprudently crossed the river in an old boat. When 
they reached the opposite bank they were seized by 
Indians and carried away. It was impossible for those 
who saw the deed to help the terrified girls, for they had 
taken the only boat. 

When Boone heard the sad story his eyes flashed, but 
he spoke quietly and all were cheered by his strong, 
sensible words. He immediately took the matter into 



30 



DANIEL BOONE. 



his own hands. He told the broken-hearted mothers 
that they need have no fear for their daughters' present 
safety, as the Indians treated women captives with kind- 
ness and respect. He promised to return their daughters 
to them safe and sound. 

No one knew the force of the enemy, but eight brave 
men offered to go with Boone to rescue the girls. With- 
out loss of time they began hunting for some trace to 
show the route taken by the Indians. By daylight they 
were on the track of the red men and in eager pur- 
suit. 

The Indians had scattered and marched through the 
thickest cane they could find, so that the white men 
would have hard work to follow them. But Boone did 
not try to follow them. He led his men in the same 
direction by a better way for about thirty miles. Then 
turning to cross their path he came upon their tracks in 
a buffalo road. 

Boone and his men quickened their march and soon 
came upon the savages, who had halted and were prepar- 
ing a meal. The Indians were so surprised that they 
fled, leaving prisoners and rifles behind. The white men 
fired after the flying foe and two fell. But, satisfied to 
find their children, Boone and his friends refrained from 
punishing the kidnappers further, and hastened back to 
the fort with the poor frightened girls. 

There was great rejoicing when they reached the 
station. The girls were kissed, scolded, and cried over 



INDIAN HOSTILITIES. 3I 

by the women. The small boys regarded them as 
heroines. 

This was the beginning of a long struggle between 
the Indians and pioneers. The whole region was alive 
with savages. They laid siege to all the stations. They 
did not usually advance boldly and attack the settle- 
ments in large companies, but hid themselves, watched 
their chances and killed their enemies singly whenever 
they could do so without risk to themselves. 

If it had been possible for the white men to stay 
within their fortifications they would not have suffered 
much from these sieges. They fought with an enemy 
cruel and cunning, but unacquainted with the arts of 
civilized warfare. To the Indians, the storming of forts 
was a new and vain undertaking. A log fortress was 
as unconquerable as one of stone, so far as these simple 
warriors were concerned. 

But the pioneers depended on the great world outside 
of the fortress for food and clothing. To keep up the 
supply of such materials it was necessary to make fre- 
quent sallies from the palisade. Prudence was needed, 
but action was just as necessary. The pioneers were 
obliged to risk the uncertain danger from Indians to 
avoid the sure misery of starvation. 

Those were days, weeks, months, of terrible anxiety 
to the little bands of settlers scattered through the 
wilderness. Wherever the white man went his path 
was beset with danger. The sly savages lurked behind 



32 DANIEL BOONE. 

trees or in bushes. Stones and stumps afforded them 
hiding places. 

The hunter in pursuit of game was shot down and 
scalped. The parties on the way to the salt licks were 
fired into by unseen hands. The farmer, hoeing his 
corn, was slain. The boy, stooping at the spring to fill 
his pail, received a bullet in his breast. The first man 
who chanced to come out of the gate in the morning 
fell face downward on the earth, and before the cloud of 
gun smoke had cleared away the stealthy redskin had 
vanished. 

In the dead of night firebrands were thrown upon the 
roofs of houses — cattle were killed or driven away. 
Whenever hunger forced the besieging party to with- 
draw to hunt, the pioneers made the most of the time to 
plow fields or harvest grain, to collect cattle or replenish 
their stock of buffalo or bear meat. 

Several times the garrisons were assailed by large 
bands of Indians. When they were one or two hundred 
strong they ventured to approach the forts and attempt 
to batter down the gates. Their fury, their war whoops, 
their faces terrible with paint and hatred, filled the 
breasts of the besieged with terror. But they were 
usually driven back by the sharp-shooting palefaces 
with greater loss than they inflicted. 

It was in such trying times as these that Boone 
seemed most the hero. The harassed people who had 
come to share his fate in the wilderness regarded him as 



BOONE MADE PRISONER. 33 

their leader and adviser. But that fearless, generous 
man insisted on serving as well as leading. 

He was eager to do the most dangerous work. He 
went out on the road to meet emigrants and lead them 
by secret ways to the stations. He journeyed by night 
from station to station. He got game and salt for the 
famishing garrisons. 

Often he met and struggled with Indians, but he 
seemed to bear a charmed life. None of them could 
boast greater cunning or alertness than he, none equal 
strength and marksmanship. He became known and 
feared as the captain of the * ' Long Knives. ' ' 



IX. — Boone Made Prisoner. 

In the winter of 1778 the salt supply gave out in 
Boonesborough. Now, there are very few articles of 
food that please us without salt; and indeed salt is 
necessary to the health of man and beast. As the 
Indians were no longer lurking about the fort, but had 
gone back to their villages to spend the winter, the 
settlers thought they might safely send a party of men 
to the springs to make a quantity of salt. 

Accordingly, thirty men, with kettles and sacks, left 
Boonesborough on the first of January for the Lower 
Blue Licks, on Licking River. 

There were famous salt springs at this place; and it 



34 



DANIEL BOONE. 



had derived its name from the fact that immense num- 
bers of deer and buffaloes resorted there to lick the salt 
which collected around the edges of the springs. 

The pioneers wished to make a large quantity of salt, 
and the licks were for weeks the scene of great activ- 
ity. Some of the 
men drew the 
water from the 
springs ; some 
tended the fires: 
others watched 
the boiling liquid 
in the great iron 
kettles. 

When the 
water had all 
evaporated the 
salt crystals 
that were left in the 
kettles were emptied 
into large sacks. These 
the men kept in a dry 
place until they had as much salt as the packhorses 
could carry; then they sent it to the garrison in charge 
of two or three men, while the others stayed at the spring 
and made more salt. 

A hunter and scout was needed to supply the 
workmen with food and give warning if the Indians 




MAKING SALT. 



BOONE MADE PRISONER. 35 

should approach. These duties were left to Daniel 
Boone. 

One day, when at some distance from the camp, he 
found himself surrounded by a large body of Indians. 
Seeing that he could not escape, he cheerfully yielded 
himself prisoner. 

He was not slow to learn the reason why this strong 
band of savages had left their homes to make a long 
march in the middle of winter. They were on the 
warpath. Their scouts had told them that most of the 
men were away from Boonesborough and they were 
hastening to destroy that fort while it was defense- 
less. 

Boone knew enough about Indian warfare to realize 
what a horrible fate awaited the settlement, so dear to 
him, if these pitiless men could not be turned from their 
purpose. He pictured the helpless women and children 
attacked by howling savages. In fancy he saw them 
rushing from their flaming homes only to fall a prey to 
the cruel tomahawk. Then he imagined the midnight 
massacre of the salt makers that would probably follow 
this bloody deed. 

If he could only get word to th*e men at the licks 
they might rush to the defense of the garrison and save 
it and themselves! But that was a vain wish and Boone 
bent his whole power to accomplish possible good. It 
seemed to him better that strong men should suffer 
imprisonment than that the devoted women who had 



36 DANIEL BOONE. 

shared the hardship of frontier life should be slain or 
that all should perish. 

He therefore reasoned with the chief and persuaded 
him that it would be much wiser for him to take the 
salt-makers prisoners than to destroy the garrison, as he 
would receive large rewards for them from the British 
at Detroit. 

The Indians saw the truth of what he said, and when 
he assured them that he had such power over his men 
that they would yield without resistance if he com- 
manded them to do so, they were pleased with the 
prospect of such an easy and safe victory. They prom- 
ised him that if he would put the " lyong Knives" in 
their power they would treat them well. 

Convinced that he had done the best in his power for 
all concerned, Boone gravely, but without faltering, 
led the braves to the camp of .the astonished salt-makers. 
They were amazed to hear the word ' ' surrender ' ' from 
Daniel Bqone; but they obeyed, believing that he had 
good reason for his action. You may be sure that those 
brave men agreed that he had done wisely when they 
learned of the danger that had thus been turned from 
the women and children of tlieir garrison. 



X. — Captivity and Escape. 

Well satisfied with having taken so many prisoners, 
the Indians returned to Old Chillicothe, north of the 



CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE. 



37 



Ohio River, to show their prisoners and celebrate their 
victory. They were faithful to their pledge and their 
captives fared as well as their own warriors; but un- 
willing hearts make slow traveling, and the Boones- 
borough men found the one hundred and sixty miles' 
march in bitter winter weather a long and hard one. 

They reached the Indian village in February. Run- 
ners were sent in advance to announce the return of a 
successful band of warriors, and the people of the village 
assembled to give the victors a noisy welcome and 
satisfy their curiosity regarding the prisoners. 

In March Boone and ten of his men were sent to 
Detroit in charge of forty braves. General Hamilton, 
the British commander at that place, had made a treaty 
of friendship with the Indians and had offered a reward 
for white prisoners. It was for the purpose of getting 
this reward that the prisoners were taken on this long 
march. 

Boone, in a certain way, enjoyed it. Alert and observ- 
ing as usual, he saw much to interest him in the country 
through which they were pa^ssing. It was just such a 
trip as he would have enjoyed taking had he been free. 
The Indians felt him to be a powerful man. They ad- 
mired him and stood in awe of him. The more they 
saw of him the better they liked him. 

When they reached Detroit they sold the other pris- 
oners to the British, but refused to give up Boone. A 
large sum of money was offered in exchange for this im- 



38 DANIEL BOONE. 

portaiit prisoner. The Indians refused it, saying they 
liked him so well they wished to make him one of their 
tribe. 

The British had promised to treat him well and he 
had a strong dislike for Indians, yet Boone showed 
no disappointment when he heard this, but appeared 
very ready to remain their prisoner. He was not easily 
overcome by misfortune. He went back with the 
Indians and took up his life among them with a cheerful 
face and hopeful heart. 

He longed to hear from Boonesborough and to send 
word of his safety to his family. He felt sure that he 
would succeed in making his escape before long, and in 
the meantime he did not find it hard to live as the 
Indians did. 

He was bathed, to wash away his white blood, and 
received into the tribe with due ceremony as the adopted 
son of a chief. He worked for his captors, making salt 
for them and tending their crops. He served so faith- 
fully and always acted in such a friendly, manly way 
that he soon won the confidence of the entire tribe. He 
was allowed to go hunting and always brought back 
presents of fine game to the great chief or king. 

When asked to measure his power in shooting at a 
mark or in running races with the savages, he showed 
his good sense and freedom from vanity. He saw that 
they were jealous of him if he surpassed them in skill, 
so he let them win in the contests, but came so near to 



CAPTIVITY AND ESCAPE. 



39 



victory that he held their respect and admiration. 
They soon came to trust him so much that they did not 
think it necessary to watch him closely. This was 
what he wanted. 

In June, on returning from a salt-making expedition, 
he found the village full of strange Indians. As it was 




SHOOTING AT A MARK WITH THE INDIANS. 



supposed that he could not understand the speech of the 
new-comers they talked freely in his presence, and he 
soon picked up enough words to learn that the braves 
were assembling to attack Boonesborough. When he 
heard that, he decided that the moment had come for 
him to attempt flight. 



40 DANIEL BOONE. 

He would be killed if caught, but at all risks he must 
make an effort to escape and warn his people of their 
danger. His captivity had been the means of saving 
the garrison once, he would save it again by escape. 

Hiding a piece of dried venison in his hunting shirt, 
he started at daybreak "to hunt." As soon as he was 
well out of sight he took pains to hide all marks that 
would show the Indians the way he had taken, ^then 
started with great speed for Boonesborough. His 
haste was so great that he did not stop to eat. He was 
in continual dread of being overtaken, and traveled night 
and day till he reached the Ohio. 

He was not a good swimmer and he was perplexed as 
to how he should cross the river. Ivuckily he found an 
old canoe on the bank. It leaked badly, but a few 
minutes^ work made it sufficiently water-proof to carry 
him to the opposite bank. Once across the river, he 
rested a little, shot a wild turkey for food, and thus re- 
freshed, renewed his journey to the settlement. 



XI. — Preparations for the Siege. 

When Boone came in sight of the familiar old fort he 
quickened his steps and his eye brightened. He forgot 
that he was tired and foot-sore. He forgot for a moment 
the terrible fate that threatened the station. The faces 
of his wife, his children and neighbors filled his thoughts 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE SIEGE. 4I 

aud the prospect of seeing them all again made him 
happy. 

His coming caused great rejoicing. Men and women 
thronged about to shake hands once more with their old 
captain. But Mrs. Boone was not among them; for, 
losing hope of her husband's return, she had gone back 
to her father's house in North Carolina with all her 
children except one daughter. Boone's disappointment 
on hearing this was softened by the thought that his 
loved ones were out of harm's way, and he soon forgot 
his personal affairs in thoughts of war. 

He interrupted the numerous questions concerning 
his welfare to ask about the strength of the fortification. 
He inquired whether certain repairs needed at the time 
of his departure had been made. The men explained 
that they had been so busy farming and hunting that 
the fortifications had been neglected. Captain Boone 
found upon examination that this was too true. No 
repairs had been made, and the old wall was badly 
weakened in places by decay. . 

For sixty men to attempt to withstand over four 
hundred Indians in this feeble fort seemed hopeless, but 
Boone did not despair. He knew his men and every 
one of them was a worker and a hero. Under his direc- 
tion they began at once to strengthen the palisade. For 
days there was a ringing of axes and a crashing of fall- 
ing oaks in the forests around Boonesborough that the 
Indian scouts heard with alarm. 



42 DANIEL BOONE. 

Inside of ten days the work was finished, and the fort 
was as strong as it could well be made with such mate- 
rial. The garrison was ready for an attack, but an 
escaped prisoner brought word that the warriors had 
been disturbed by Boone's flight and the reports of new 
fortifications at Boonesborough, and would put off their 
expedition for three weeks. 

That time ought not to be lost; the Indians' fear of 
them should be increased. So thought Boone; and he 
determined to take a daring step. He called for volun- 
teers and, with a company of nineteen men, made a bold 
dash into the enemy's country. He thought that if the 
Kentuckians threatened the Indian villages the warriors 
might return to their homes to defend them. With 
this idea in view, he and his company advanced toward 
Paint-Creek-Town, a village in the region where he 
had recently been a prisoner. 

When almost there they met a squad of Indians on 
their way to join those who were coming to attack 
Boonesborough. A brisk skirmish resulted, carried on 
according to the Indian fashion from behind trees and 
logs. After some minutes of sharp shooting, one of the 
Indians was killed and two were wounded. 

Their comrades then fled, leaving horses and bag- 
gage behind. Encircled by this booty, Boone faced his 
men homeward, for he had learned that Paint-Creek- 
Town had been deserted and that the warriors were on 
the march. 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 



43 



You may be sure that the Indians, routed by Boone's 
company, in reporting the affray to their friends, pictured 
the force that had overpowered them as much stronger 
and more terrible than it really was in order to excuse 
their own defeat. 

Perhaps it was with a hope of reaching Boones- 
borough while so many of its defenders were away that 
the Indians set forth on their long-planned journey. 
However, by forced marches Boone outstripped the main 
body of the enemy, and regained the fort without the 
loss of a single man. 

This bold deed had far-reaching results, for it encour- 
aged the garrison greatly, and made the Indians look 
upon Boone and his men with almost superstitious 
dread. 



XII. — The Siege of Boonesborough. 

If the men of Boonesborough could have trembled 
with fear they must have done so when they saw the 
host by which their little fort was soon surrounded. 
There was a great horde of Indian warriors and sachems, 
hideous in paint and feathers, commanded by Chief 
Blackfish, the same who had been Boone's master when 
in captivity. A little band of Canadians marched with 
them under British and French flags. 

Although there were not over a dozen palefaces they 
added much to the strength of their allies, because of 



44 - DANIEL BOONE. 

their knowledge of storming fortifications. When Daniel 
Boone saw them he knew that this siege would differ 
from other Indian sieges, not only in force but in 
method. 

And true enough, up came several men headed by the 
leader of the Canadians, Du Quesne, with a flag of truce, 
and asked to see Captain Daniel Boone. As Captain 
Boone was not far away he appeared promptly. Du 
Quesne then demanded the ' ' surrender of the garrison 
in the name of His Britannic Majesty." That sounded 
very dreadful. They had to fight this time— not simply 
ignorant savages, but four hundred and fifty well-armed 
warriors, directed by white men experienced in arts of 
war, and acting under the authority of " His Majesty, 
the King. ' ' Captain Boone seemed deeply impressed and 
after a brief talk with the men around him asked for 
two days to consider the question. Du Quesne granted 
the request ; for a man who is sure of victory can aflford 
to be generous. 

As "all is fair in war," you will not be surprised to 
learn that Boone did not need two days, or two hours, 
or two minutes, to decide what the garrison would do. 
The idea of their yielding was as far from his thoughts, 
as the idea of their offering any serious resistance was 
from Du Quesne' s. He knew that they had a large 
force to encounter and that if the fort was taken by 
storm they need expect no quarter from the Indians. 
But those men who had come into the wilderness for 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 45 

larger freedom, preferred death to captivity. It was no 
new thing for them to risk their lives against great odds, 
depending on their own strength and valor for the 
victory. 

Boone gave directions for the cattle to be brought in 
and a store of provisions and water to be collected. 
The fort was the scene of busy preparations for a long 
siege during the next two days. Even the women and 
children did their part, carrying water all day long from 
the spring. But care was taken that not many should 
be away from the fort at one time, and a constant watch 
was kept to guard against Indian treachery. No at- 
tempt was made to interfere with their work, however. 
The enemy watched all of these preparations with grim 
satisfaction. They had a cunning plan in mind and 
expected to eat the food that Boone's men were collect- 
ing with such labor. 

When the two days had passed, Du Quesne returned 
for an answer. Boone announced that the men of 
Boonesborough would resist to the last man. He then 
thanked the enemy for the time they had given him. 
He thought they would be angry and ready to fight. 
Instead, Du Quesne replied that before going to war 
they would better hear the liberal terms of surrender 
that General Hamilton offered them, and invited a 
committee of nine men to talk the matter over with 
them before the fort. 

Eight men volunteered to go with Boone to a point 



46 DANIEL BOONE. 

within gunshot of the fort to treat with the Indians. 
No arms were carried by either party. Though there 
were only nine in Boone's party many Indians attended 
the council. . After some talk a paper was read, saying 
that the people of Boonesborough would be left in 
peace if they would acknowledge the sovereignty of 
England. 

The Kentuckians saw there was treachery in this fair 
promise, but thought it wisest to conceal their doubt. 
So they signed the paper and consented to shake hands 
with the Indians. At this, eighteen strong Indians 
stepped forward and two grasped each of the nine men 
of Boonesborough by the hajid and arm and tried to 
drag them away. 

The men were on the lookout for an attack, and 
each putting forth his utmost strength managed to 
escape from his two captors. The guard at the fort 
saw the struggle and opened fire. The Indians be- 
gan firing at the same time. But, wonderful as it 
may seem, the entire party reached the fort with only 
one wounded. 

Trickery had failed ; the prey had escaped frpm their 
very grasp. Maddened with failure, the Indians rushed 
against the fort with blind fury, yelling, battering the 
gates, and firing wildly at the log fort. 

This was the beginning of a hard struggle that lasted 
for nine days. Both parties suffered. The Indians 
found no shelter within rifle-shot of the fort, and, 



THE SIEGE OF BOONESBOROUGH. 47 

driven to open fighting, fell before the sparing but 
deadly fire from the fort. 

The little party within the fort suffered also. 
There were so few of them to watch and fight so 
many. 

The women proved a great help. They not only pre- 
pared food for the men and made bullets, but with 
courage that equaled the men's they stood beside them 
when the fight was thickest and loaded their muskets. 
Daniel Boone's daughter was wounded while loading her 
father's rifle. She was struck by an Indian bullet, but 
it was too far spent to do serious harm. 

Protected by their ramparts the men wasted no am- 
munition in aimless firing, but took good aim and shot 
to kill. A negro at the fort deserted and joined the 
Indians. He had a good rifle, and stationing himself in 
a tree within reach of the fort fired into it. Daniel 
Boone soon discovered the place from which these well- 
aimed shots were fired, and waiting till the traitor raised 
the upper part of his head above a branch to take aim — 
fired. The negro fell with his head pierced by the old 
hunter's bullet. 

Despairing of making any headway with arms, the 
Indians tried to burn the fort. A fire was started on 
the roof of one of the cabins, but it was discovered 
before it had done much damage. A brave young man 
climbed to the roof and in the face of a brisk fire from 
the enemy put out the flames. 



48 DANIEL BOONE. 

By the advice of the Canadians the assailants next 
sought to dig an underground passage or mine to the 
fort. They began to dig in the river bank above the 
water line, out of sight from the fort, and out of reach 
of its guns. But the men at the fort soon guessed what 
they were about, by the muddy water in the river 
below the fort. Boone ordered a trench cut across this 
passage. The earth removed was thrown over the wall 
of the fort. When the enemy saw it they knew that 
their plan was discovered and would be defeated. 

They gave up the hope of success, and returned to 
their homes sullen with shame, grief, and disappoint- 
ment. Thirty-seven of their proud warriors were slain 
and many were wounded, but that was not all. They 
had lost hope of regaining their hunting grounds from 
the ''Long Knives." The British were not less disap- 
pointed ; they had to bear the expense of the war ; 
they had lost the confidence of the Indians, and the 
western bulwark of American freedom was as strong as 
ever. 

The people of Boonesborough had reason to rejoice. 
All but six, two killed and four wounded, had escaped 
the fire of the enemy, which had been so heavy that 
after the siege they picked up one hundred and twenty- 
five pounds of bullets around the walls. By their suc- 
cess they encouraged immigration and discouraged the 
Indians. In short, they had saved Kentucky. And 
Daniel Boone was the hero of the day. 



DARK DAYS. 



XIIL— Dark Days. 



49 



Everybody was now talking about Boone's courage 
and skill, and he was rewarded by being given the rank 
of major. But pioneer life was full of struggles and the 
glory of victory was soon lost sight of in the little 
battles and victories of daily life. Boone went to Caro- 
lina for his wife and children. He was given a cordial 
welcome and stayed there a short time. His safe return 
with reports of success influenced many families to emi- 
grate to the west. 

Boone succeeded in reaching Boonesborough again, 
but said afterwards that his troubles on that journey 
would fill a book. It was at that time that he was 
robbed of his own fortune, and worse, of money entrusted 
to him by others, for the purpose of buying land. Some 
people accused him of dishonesty, but not those who 
knew him. This is what one of the men whose money 
he lost wrote: 

"I have known Boone in times of old, when poverty 
and distress held him fast by the hand; and in these 
wretched circumstances I have ever found him of a 
noble and generous soul, despising everything mean; 
and therefore I will freely grant him a discharge for 
whatever sums of mine he might have possessed at that 
time." 

During Boone's absence serious danger had threatened 
the settlement. The British had organized an army of 



50 DANIEL BOONE. 

savages and invaded Kentucky with cannon. The 
frontiersmen knew that the sheltering walls that had 
saved them so often from Indian violence could not 
stand before the fire of cannon. Two stations were 
taken, but the difficulty of moving artillery over the 
rough ground caused the party to give up the undertak- 
ing before Boonesborough was reached. 

In the autumn of 1780 Boone and his brother went on 
an expedition to Blue Licks. On their way home they 
fell into an Indian ambuscade. His brother was killed 
and it was only by great exertion that Daniel Boone 
escaped. 

He was fleet of foot and cunning as an Indian, but he 
could not throw the pursuers off his trail. He discov- 
ered that they were led in the chase by a dog. He 
knew that he could not deceive the creature's instinct, 
and so he waited until it came near him and shot it. 
Without its guidance the Indians were soon outwitted 
by the hunter. 

He made the rest of his journey home without ad- 
venture, but with a heavy heart. The brother who 
had been his devoted companion through years of dan- 
ger and hardship had been cruelly killed, and he missed 
him sadly. 

The winter that followed was a bitter one. The 
ground was covered with snow from November till Feb- 
ruary, and the cold was so intense that cattle and even 
wild beasts froze to death. To add to the suffering of 



DARK DAYS. 5I 

the settlers there was a corn-famine, for much of the 
corn had been destroyed by the Indians. Buffalo meat 
was their chief food. 

In spite of so many hardships the settlements 
grew and increased. The Indians became desper- 
ate and rallied to make a last attempt to crush the 
intruders. 

In the summer of 1782 they invaded Kentucky under 
the leadership of two white men, who lived with the 
Indians and helped them in their attacks upon settle- 
ments. They assailed Bryant's Station first. But the 
little garrison offered a stout resistance and they were 
obliged to withdraw. The militia were summoned to 
pursue them. Then came a day terrible for the pioneers 
of Kentucky — a day not to be named among them with- 
out a thrill of horror — a day that filled the stout heart of 
Daniel Boone with bitterness and grief 

Colonel Boone (he had been made Lieutenant-Colonel) 
and his men, most of them veterans in Indian warfare, 
were among the first to answer the call for aid. With 
the tried soldiers of his troop was a youth about to 
engage in his first battle. This was Israel Boone, the 
son of Daniel. 

The company that met at Bryant's Station was a good 
one for any but an enemy to look at. Those men 
had such rugged frames, such keen, intelligent faces, 
and such an air of self-confidence. Their leaders were 
men distinguished for deeds of valor — backwoods 



52 DANIEL BOONE. 

heroes, whose names were household words and whose 
adventures were fireside stories in every settlement. 
But there was none among them so well fitted to be 
guide and commander as Daniel Boone. None knew 
the ground so well. None knew the foe so well. None 
had such a glorious record as he. But the command 
was given to an older officer. 

There was some disagreement as to whether they 
should advance at once or wait for Colonel Logan with 
his men. Most were in favor of immediate pursuit. 
Boone advised delay. He called attention to the fact 
that the Indians had made no effort to conceal their 
route, had even marked the trees with their tomahawks 
as if to invite pursuit. He noticed, too, that the camp- 
fires were few, and inferred that the Indians were trying 
to hide their strength. His warning was not listened to 
and he was accused of cowardice. 

The troops advanced without seeing anything of the 
enemy until they reached the I^icking River at I^ower 
Blue I^icks. Here the vanguard saw a few Indians on 
the other side of the river. Before crossing the stream 
a council of officers was held. Boone again advised 
caution. He predicted that they would find about four 
or five hundred Indians in ambush in the ravines 
along the ridge on the other side. If they insisted on 
continuing he proposed a plan by which they might 
hope for victory. 

The discussion was interrupted. A rash young 



DARK DAYS. 



53 



officer raised a warwhoop and with the shout, * 'Those 
who are not cowards follow me; I will show them where 
the Indians are," plunged into the river. He was 
eagerly followed by many. 

Boone paused a moment, and his men stood firm 
waiting for his command. He believed those men were 
rushing to their death. But he could not stand back 
and let them perish without another effort to save 
them. He ordered his men forward. At Boone's 
entreaty there was another halt across the river, and 
scouts were sent out to examine the ravines. They 
reported no Indians. And the Kentuckians again went 
-forward. 

As they neared the ridge the long grass in the 
ravines suddenly became alive with armed savages. 
A deadly fire was poured upon the troops from both 
sides. Many fell, dead or wounded. The others 
returned fire, but in vain. To face those terrible 
volleys meant death. A retreat was ordered. It 
became a flight. The Indians were upon the terror- 
stricken men, brandishing their tomahawks and mad for 
blood. 

Boone held his men together as long as there was 
hope of united action. Then all became disorder. It 
was a bitter thing for him to see those young men, the 
flower of the settlement, dead upon the bare earth, but 
when his son Israel was shot the father forgot others. 
He took his dying boy in his arms and with the strength 



54 



DANIEL BOONE. 



of love and despair strode through the flying bullets 
unhurt 

Many a brave deed was done that day. One man who 
had been called coward proved himself valiant. He 
was making his escape on a fine horse when the fate of 
the men trying to cross the river appealed to him. He 
called to his comrades with the air of a commander: 
"Halt! Fire upon the Indians and protect our men." 
They obeyed and the pursuit was checked. Another 
brave fellow saw an old, lame officer unmounted. He 
gave him his own horse and took his chance of escape 
on foot. The fugitives were pursued for twenty miles, 
but most of those who got across the river in safety 
escaped. 

About sixty of the Kentuckians fell that day and as 
many Indians. The grief throughout the settlements 
was bitter and their revenge was terrible. 

A thousand frontiersmen commanded by George Rog- 
ers Clark, the famous hero of the Northwest, were soon 
marching into the Indian country. With them went 
Daniel Boone, in whose advice everybody placed the 
greatest confidence. 

The Kentuckians crossed the Ohio River, and marched 
rapidly upon the Indian towns on the Miami River. 
The red men were taken by surprise while celebrating 
the victory which they had gained at Blue lyicks. 
Clark's army was within two miles of their principal 
town when they first learned of its approach. They 



OLD AGE. 55 

fled in the greatest haste, and made no attempt to defend 
their homes. 

The frontiersmen burned all the Indian towns on the 
Miami, destroyed the crops, and killed every Indian that 
came in their way. The red men had never been so 
severely pnnished, and they were greatly disheartened. 
"They learned," said Boone, "that it was useless for 
them to keep on fighting with the whites." 

After this, the Indians made but little serious trouble 
in Kentucky. The settlers now felt themselves secure, 
and they could give more attention to their clearings 
and farms. 

But a few red men still lurked in the woods, or came 
across the Ohio River, intent upon mischief. And 
it was not until some years later that life was entirely 
safe throughout the Kentucky settlements. 



XIV.— Old Age. 



Peace was declared between England and America 
and the Indians were no longer incited by the British 
to attack the settlers. The harsh punishment they had 
received for their last expedition had its effect too, and 
the Red Men gave up trying to conquer the " Long- 
Knives. " Kentucky was dotted with cabins and block- 



C, 



•f^ 



56 DANIEL BOONE. 

houses. The day of Indian wars had passed. But the 
savages still troubled lonely farmers. They were ever 
on the watch to attack the defenseless or kidnap 
children. 

Daniel Boone built a neat log-house on a fine large 
farm, where he lived surrounded by his family and 
friends. He was a marked man and the Indians would 
have been glad at any time to capture him. 

One day he was in his barn loft, examining his 
tobacco, which had been thrown across the rafters to 
dry. Hearing a noise, he looked down and saw four 
well-armed Indians standing below him. 

"Now, Boone," cried the leader,- "we've got you. 
You no get away any more. We take you off to Chilli- 
cothe this time. You no cheat us any more." 

Boone saw their loaded guns pointed at him, and knew 
that resistance would be useless. But he recognized the 
men as old acquaintances belonging to the same party 
that had captured him years before when making salt at 
Blue Licks. So he said pleasantly, "Ah, my friends, 
how glad I am to see you! Just wait till I have turned 
the rest of this tobacco, and then I'll come down and 
shake hands with you." 

The red men wanted him to come down at once; but 
when he told them he would go quietly with them, they 
consented to let him finish his work. 

Boone, while busy tossing his tobacco about, chatted 
pleasantly with the four savages, and recalled the old 



OLD AGE. 57 

times when he had competed with them in hunting and 
in shooting at a mark. They became so deeply inter- 
ested in what he was saying that they forgot themselves 
and put their guns down upon the ground. 

Suddenly Boone threw a quantity of the dry tobacco, 
full of dust, down into their upturned faces. At the 
same moment he jumped upon them with as much of 
the tobacco as he could carry in his arms, filling their 
eyes and mouths with the choking, blinding dust. 
Then, before they could recover themselves, he ran as 
fast as he could towards his cabin. 

He had gone but a little distance when he looked 
around to see what the Indians were doing. To his 
great amusement he saw them groping around as 
though blinded, reaching out their hands to find their 
rifles, and feeling their way out of the dense cloud of 
tobacco dust. He could not avoid a taunting laugh, 
while the Indians cursed themselves as fools and called 
after him in no pleasant manner. But he was soon safe 
in his cabin, and the four savages were obliged to return 
sadly to their people without the prisoner whom they 
had hoped to bring. 

Although shrewd in his dealings with Indians, Daniel 
Boone was simple and straightforward in his dealings 
with men of his own race and he expected the same 
treatment from them. He was therefore surprised and 
indignant to find that because he had neglected some 
legal formality the land that he had discovered, explored, 



58 DANIEL BOONE. 

wrested from the Indians, cleared and cultivated, be- 
longed, not to him, but to the man who had signed the 
proper papers. 

He loved Kentucky. The soil, the trees, the rocks, 
the rivers, were dear to him. Here he had spent 
the most eventful years of his life and known his 
deepest sorrows and keenest joys. He was proud 
of it. 

Its settlement was in a large measure his work. But 
he was homeless in the land where he had founded 
homes for others. 

He made a brief visit to his birthplace in Pennsyl- 
vania, then went to Virginia, where he found a lonely 
spot near Point Pleasant on the Great Kanawha in the 
center of a rich game district. There he lived for five 
years, finding quiet enjoyment in the wild woods with 
his gun and his dogs. Then there came to him glowing 
reports from the land beyond the Mississippi. He had 
a brother and son there, and their descriptions of life in 
that region made him think of early days in Ken- 
tucky. He determined to join them. So at sixty years 
of age, the great pioneer, accompanied by his faithful 
wife, started west again, away from civilization into 
the wilderness. 

This was a fortunate move. His fame had gone 
before him and he received a warm welcome. The 
Spanish governor saw what an influence the coming of 
such a man as Boone would have on the settlement of 



OLD AGE. 59 

the territory and was glad to honor him. He made 
him commander of the Femme Osage District in what 
is now the state of Missouri, and presented him with 
eio^ht thousand five hundred acres of land. 

He worked hard at trapping and hunting and when 
he had saved some money returned to Kentucky. The 
growth of civilization there seemed almost magical to 
the man who could remember the winter when he was 
the only white inhabitant of the vast territory. But 
curiosity had not brought the pioneer to Kentucky. 
He had come to return the money he had lost by that 
unfortunate robbery, and so relieve his mind from a 
burden that had troubled him for more than fifteen 
years. He hunted up every man to whom he was 
indebted, and having paid every dollar he owed, returned 
to Missouri with a much lighter heart and a much 
lighter pocket-book. 

He was well pleased with his new home. Its great 
forests and simple people suited him. Here he lived 
over the delights of his old Kentucky life without suf- 
fering its hardships. 

At the age of seventy-five, and until his eyesight 
failed, he was as great a hunter as in his younger days. 
Sometimes he would spend days and weeks in the woods, 
far from any settlement, and exposed to all sorts of 
danger. 

There were still many Indians in that part of the 
country, and some of them were always making trouble 



6o DANIEL BOONE. 

for the white settlers. But Boone understood them so 
well, and was so shrewd in his dealings with them, that 
they were never able to harm him. 

When in the woods, however, he was obliged to be 
very watchful. He knew how to place his beaver traps 
where the Indians could not find them; he knew how to 
conceal his own trail so that they could not follow it; 
even the little hut, in which he lived when out hunting, 
was so well hidden in some leafy thicket that no one 
could guess where to look for it. 

In the trapping of beavers, Boone took the greatest 
delight. Paddling alone in his light canoe, he explored 
the creeks and streamlets in his neighborhood, and even 
the great Missouri itself, setting his traps and gathering 
a rich harvest of furs. 

At one time, with a little negro boy twelve 
years old, he took pack-horses and made a long jour- 
ney through the woods to the country on the Osage 
River. There he built a winter camp, intending to 
hunt and trap until he had skins enough to load his 
horses. 

He had hardly laid in his supplies for the winter, 
before he was taken very sick. For weeks he lay in the 
little hut with no one to care for him but the little 
negro boy. "Tom,'- he said, "if I die you must bury 
me under the great oak on the top of that hill. Then 
you must catch the horses, tie the blankets and skins 
on their backs, and take them home. Be sure to take 



OLD AGE. 6l 

my rifle with you, too; and tell all the folks at home 
that I remembered them to the last." 

But toward spring the old man rallied and soon grew 
strong again; and on the first fine day he broke up 
camp, mounted one of his horses, and returned home; 
but he did not carry many beaver skins with him that 
time. 

So long as the Spanish and the French had control of 
the Missouri country, Boone was safe in the possession 
of his lands. But when the territory came into the 
hands of the United States, the government refused to 
recognize his claim. 

In the meantime Kentucky had become a state, and 
in his distress Boone appealed to its legislature for help. 
Glad to serve the founder of the state, the legislature had 
the matter presented to Congress. In consideration for 
his services to the country Congress granted Colonel 
Boone eight hundred and fifty acres of land. 

In December, 1813, Boone received word of this 
gift, but the enjoyment of the good news was blighted 
by the death. of his wife. Boone chose a beautiful spot 
overlooking the river for her grave and expressed a 
wish to be buried beside her. 

Boone was now a silvery-haired old man. His eyes 
v/ere too dim to hunt ; and he spent the remainder of 
his life in peace and content with his sons and daugh- 
ters. You may be sure he was a most delightful grand- 
father and always had a story to tell the boys. 



62 



DANIEL BOONE. 



He died, in 1820, at the age of eighty-five, surrounded 
by relatives and loving friends, and was buried beside 
his wife. But twenty-five years later the remains of 
both were removed to the cemetery of Frankfort, Ken- 
tucky, with great pomp and ceremony. So the noble 
pioneer is at rest in the land he loved. 




BOONE'S MONUMENT, FRANKFORT, KY. 



THE PIONEERS. 63 

THE PIONEERS. 

Here once Boone trod — the hardy pioneer— 

The only white man in the wilderness; 
Oh! how he loved alone to hunt the deer, 

Alone at eve his simple meal to dress; 
No mark upon the tree, nor print, nor track, 
To lead him forward, or to guide him back; 
He roved the forest, king by main and might, 
And looked up to the sky and shaped his course aright. 

The mountain there, that lifts its bald, high head 

Above the forest was, perchance, his throne; 
There has he stood and marked the woods outspread 

Like a great kingdom that w^as all his own. 
In hunting-shirt and moccasins arrayed, 
With bearskin cap, and pouch, and needful blade. 
How carelessly he leaned upon his gun. 
That scepter of the wild that had so often won! 

Those western pioneers an impulse felt, 

"Which their less hardy sons scarce comprehend; 

Alone, in Nature's wildest scenes they dwelt. 
Where crag and precipice and torrent blend, 

And stretched around the wilderness, as rude 

As the red rovers of its solitude, 

Who watched their coming with a hate profound, 

And fought with deadly strife for every inch of ground. 

To shun a greater ill sought they the wild ? 

No; they left happier lands behind them far. 
And brought the nursing mother and her child 

To share the dangers of the border war. 
The log-built cabin from the Indian barred. 
Their little boy, perchance, kept watch and ward. 
While father plowed with rifle at his back. 
Or sought the glutted foe through many a devious track. 



64 DANIEL BOONE. 

How cautiously yet fearlessly, that boy 

Would search the forest for the wild beast's lair, 
And lift his rifle with a hurried joy, 

If chance he spied the Indian lurking there ! 
And should they bear him prisoner from the fight. 
While they are sleeping in the dead midnight 
He slips the thongs that bind him to the tree. 
And leaving death with them, bounds home right happily. 

Before the mother, bursting through the door. 
The red man rushes where her infants rest; 

Oh, God ! he hurls them on the cabin floor, 

And she, down kneeling, clasps them to her breast. 

How he exults and revels in her woe. 

And lifts the weapon, yet delays the blow ! 

Ha ! that report ! behold, he reels, he dies ! 

And quickly to her arms the husband, father, flies. 

In the long winter eve, their cabin fast. 

The big logs blazing in the chimney wide, 
They'd hear the Indian howling, or the blast, 
And deem themselves in castellated pride. 
Then would the fearless forester disclose 
Most strange adventures with his sylvan foes, 
Of how his arts did over theirs prevail. 
And how he followed far upon their bloody trail. 

And it was happiness, they said, to stand, 

When summer smiled upon them in the wood, 

And see the little clearing there expand. 
And be the masters of the solitude. 

Danger was but excitement; and when came 

The tide of emigration, life grew tame; 

Then would they seek some unknown wild anew. 

And soon above the trees, the smoke was curling blue. 

F. W. Thomas. 



m 17 1900 



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